


some people??? write fanfic??? to cope???

by valwrites



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Anorexia, Bulimia, Eating Disorders, Fainting, Gen, Insecurity, M/M, Vomiting, let's get an f for the pretty boy, no beta we die like writers, oh god is this gonna be a one shot book oh no, welcome to me projecting onto the pretty boy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2020-03-08 20:28:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18902059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valwrites/pseuds/valwrites
Summary: i have an eating disorder and i like making zen suffer





	1. never enough

**Author's Note:**

> hi uhhhhhhh it's a bad food day
> 
> this isn't rated because the vomit stuff is semi graphic but yeah other than that it's fine there's nothing mature here

I consent to the Organization of Transformative Works (OTW) terms of service and explicitly deny rights to reprint, share, or redistribute this work on any platform not owned by OTW. #

* * *

His throat burns.

Every cough feels like he's swallowing daggers and every gag makes him feel like he's going to faint, but he doesn't stop. Zen shoves his hand down his throat and waits until he can't keep it there any longer, shuddering as he empties his stomach for the third time that day.

He hasn't even eaten, so there's nothing to get rid of, but he needs to feel that buzz that comes from purging. That pride, that relief. The feeling that he's doing something _right_. And it's horrible, because he's killing his voice and his teeth and it hurts so much to sing now and he's tired of cherry cough drops, but Zen spills his guts until his knuckles are bleeding and there's nothing but sour acid pouring from his throat, and he's crying into the fucking toilet because no matter how hard he tries, it just isn't enough.

It's never enough. Even when his body's shaking and he can't stand, it's never enough. He thinks maybe if he just hadn't eaten in the first place, things would be better, but he's weak and he gives into the hunger too easily. His castmates raise eyebrows when he turns down lunch, so Zen skips breakfast and throws up whatever he eats into the sink in the dressing room, but it's still never enough. He still feels filthy. 

It's not even that he's insecure about his body. Zen's gorgeous, and he knows it- people stop to stare at him in the street for God's sake. He's more muscle than fat, so it's not like losing weight would even do him any good, he's just so terrified of gaining it. Zen has to be so careful about looking beautiful all the time and keeping his body in perfect shape so he can dance properly, and it's becoming exhausting. Working out until he can't feel his body and passing out on the floor as soon as he gets home is becoming exhausting. “I already ate” is becoming exhausting, and so is “I can have a little bit if I just purge later”.

Zen finally stands up and shoves his hand under the faucet to rinse away the blood and spit, then rinses his mouth out. He stares at himself in the mirror, tired eyes and runny nose and dry lips, and he knows he looks sick but he can't bring himself to care. Zen opens his mouth to look at his throat, cherry red and swollen, and when he groans in frustration and the feeling is like swallowing hot sand. But he shouldn't complain; he did this to himself.

Zen wonders if he could have gone longer. There's nothing in his stomach, he knows that, but he feels like he copped out too early. He always does. Needing a distraction, Zen reaches for his phone and turns off the music he'd been blaring (he lives alone, but he's still so paranoid about the neighbors above him hearing him coughing up his lungs that he plays music and runs the shower and the bathroom fans _all at once_ ), and logs into the messenger.

**ZEN has entered the chatroom.**

**ZEN:** Guysss T-T  
**ZEN:** My throat hurts so bad and I have practice tonight

**MC:** Aww, Zenny  
**MC:** Give your voice a break! You're probably just hurting yourself from singing too much.  
**MC:** If you come to the cafe, I'll make you tea.

**ZEN:** Aww  
**ZEN:** Thank you, princess <3

**MC:** ♡

Zen has to smile at that. God, MC's so sweet to him. He wonders if she still would be if she knew what he'd just done, or how disgusting he is.

**Jumin Han:** I don't know much about singing, but I feel as if the cigarettes are doing worse to your voice than practicing is.  
**Jumin Han:** They aren't good for your health. Plus, if your habit is preventing you from working, I would recommend trying to quit.

**ZEN:** It's not the cigarettes, trust fund

**707:** Oooooooh Zenny is angryyyyy!

Zen scoffs, then finds himself wincing again.

**ZEN:** Really, it's not  
**ZEN:** For sure

**Jumin Han:** While I trust that you know yourself best, I'm just trying to express my concern.

**ZEN:** Yeah, well  
**ZEN:** I don't need your concern and I don't care for it either  
**ZEN:** So maybe fuck off just this once because you're right, you don't know what's good for me

**Yoosung ★:** ZEN OMG ;;;;  
**Yoosung ★:** I know you and Jumin bicker a lot, but that was so mean!!

**Jaehee Kang:** Are you alright, Zen…?

**ZEN:** I'm fine  
**ZEN:** I shouldn't have said anything never mind

**Jumin Han:** You seem as if something else is bothering you.

**ZEN has left the chatroom.**

Zen sets his phone on the sink and drops to his knees, curling in on himself. He's such an idiot. _God_ he's such an idiot. There are tears in Zen's eyes, but he doesn't care enough to try to stop them from falling. He already knows he's weak. To weak to resist temptations and to do anything but spill his stomach into the toilet bowl when he's in pain. He skips meals and cries to the mirror like a middle school girl, all because he's weak. Guys don't get eating disorders, what the fuck is wrong with him? Is he ever going to feel good enough?

Maybe he's not talented. Maybe he can't act or sing, and he's only come as far as he has because he won some genetic lottery. Because he's fucking _pretty_. And what happens when he's not even that anymore? When he's too fat to walk or too frail to breathe? Bruises litter his knuckles and his knees from hunching over and shoving his hand down his throat, and it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say he looks dead. He opens his mouth to sing and he sounds dead, his voice breaking on every note. And yet here Zen is, lying on the cold hard ground with his heart ready to beat out of his chest. Not good enough, and not dead enough, either.

He's not enough.


	2. orange juice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this one's got juzen, sweet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah someone commented on this again and i was like "oh shit" so i added like 3 paragraphs to this chapter and published it bc it's been in my drafts since september
> 
> srry it's messy lmao

I consent to the Organization of Transformative Works (OTW) terms of service and explicitly deny rights to reprint, share, or redistribute this work on any platform not owned by OTW. #

* * *

"Look at me, Zen."

Zen's covering his eyes with his left hand and clinging to Jumin with his right. He's squeezing the man's hand so tightly his knuckles are turning white, but if Jumin's bothered by it, he hasn't said anything. He's just running his thumb along Zen's bruised knuckles slowly, patiently waiting for the man to look up at him again.

Zen doesn't know how long he's been sitting like this, his fingers laced with Jumin's and a glass of orange juice sitting on the table between them. He's given up on keeping time now since carbs and calories and fats and sugars and inches and pounds are so much to deal with already. He's so tired of numbers. One-hundred thirty-seven calories and eleven glasses of water today. Two pounds down since yesterday. Forty times up and down the stairs before Jumin made him stop-

Wait, how many calories did he burn today?

"Zen," Jumin whispers his name again, snapping him out of his thoughts. Zen slams his hand down on the table and looks up at Jumin, his eyes brimming with tears.

"What do you want?" Zen snaps, knowing the answer but asking anyway.

Jumin's expression doesn't change. "I want you to drink," he says gently. "I know drinking is easier for you than eating, and I will be happy if you have even a little bit. We cannot have you fainting again. It's not worth the risk of you falling and injuring your head or worse."

Zen laughs bitterly at that, shaking his head. He hates it when Jumin does this. Hates how patient Jumin is with him, how supportive and understanding he is. It drives him fucking insane.

"You don't get it, asshole," Zen snaps. "I don't give a shit if I get hurt. I don't _want_ to be scared of getting hurt, I want my self-control back and I want this glass of fucking orange juice out of my fucking face."

Zen can tell by the look on Jumin's face he's extremely bothered by his disregard for his health, and feels a pang of guilt. When Zen looks away, he hears Jumin sigh and tap his fingernails on the kitchen table as he thinks.

Zen doesn't dare look up because he knows Jumin will start saying things he wants to hear again. You're okay, one sip won't hurt you, you're perfect just how you are. Things like that don't help him lose weight in the end, so they don't matter.

"You're right, I don't understand. At least not fully," Jumin begins slowly. "Eating disorders are extremely complex and completely different from one individual to another. It's hard for me to research how to help you because I don't know precisely what's going on inside your head."

Zen shakes his head. "I don't need your help, Jumin. I want this. I feel _better_ like this," he explains.

"You don't want this. It isn't worth sacrificing your health for. Nothing is." Jumin gives his hand a light squeeze. "If you continue to deprive yourself of food like this, your body will begin to shut down-"

"It's not depriving myself if I don't need it, Jumin," Zen insists. "You've seen me go four days without eating. I don't need to eat right now."

Jumin sighs. "Well, I was unaware how long it had been since you'd eaten at the time."

"That's because I dealt with it. I dealt with the lightheadedness and the hunger, and I was fine. I'm fine right now."

Jumin goes silent and Zen glances up to see him pinching the bridge of his nose and furrowing his brows. Zen shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He hates seeing Jumin so… stressed.

"Why do you think you'll feel better?" Jumin asks suddenly.

Zen blinks, caught off guard by the question and the realization that he doesn't have an answer. He doesn't know why he thinks starving himself will make his problems go away. He just knows that eating makes him feel like a waste of space.

"I feel like I'm doing something right," he says. Then, in a quiet voice, Zen adds, "I want to feel like I'm worth something."

"...like you are worth something."

"Yes."

The silence is deafening, but Zen can still hear Jumin's heart shatter. Zen watches the rise and fall of Jumin's chest, and his eyes widen as Jumin's begin to water. He's never seen Jumin cry before.

"Jumin?" Zen asks in a shaky whisper. Jumin looks like he's at war with himself over what he wants to say right now.

"I'm tired of watching you killing yourself," Jumin finally admits. "I cannot stand the thought of you getting hurt, let alone _dying_. Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? All that's left of you is bone. You will be gone soon if you don't put an end to this."

"I know. I'm sorry."

Jumin shakes his head. "I do not want an apology. There's nothing to apologize for, Zen."

Zen looks at the hand he's holding. He imagines a ring on Jumin's finger, and what it will take to get there. Maybe Zen doesn't care about his own life anymore, but he cares about Jumin. He can see himself caring about a life _with_ Jumin.

He'd have to start eating and exercising normally again. Stop reading labels and cutting his food into tiny pieces and counting to ten before he swallows. He'll have to stop counting pounds and start counting the years he has left if he goes on like this. Maybe the months, he doesn't know. Zen hates keeping track of time.

"...have I really gotten that bad? That you're scared for my life?" Zen asks quietly.

Jumin takes a shaky breath, then says, "Hyun, I am terrified."

Zen knows that the fingers laced with Jumin's shouldn't be so slender and the eyes studying Jumin's expression shouldn't be so dull, but he's never wanted to admit it. He knows he shouldn't be so hungry it aches, his cheeks shouldn't be so swollen and his throat shouldn't burn when he speaks. Zen's known he's been killing his body since day one but never wanted to stop. Now, seeing the man he loves crying in fear of his life, he does.

Zen's gaze flickers down to the glass and back up to Jumin's face. Jumin's eyes are squeezed shut and he's holding his free hand over his mouth so he doesn't cry, and that's when Zen decides he's done. He can't do this anymore.

Before Zen can change his mind, he picks up the glass of orange juice and brings it to his lips. It takes all the strength he can muster but Zen manages to take two tiny sips before putting it back down, trying not to focus on the sweetness coating his tongue. It's cold and sugary and it tastes _good,_ and Zen is suddenly very emotional because he forgot how good orange juice tastes, and he knows that's a stupid thing to be emotional about but it's true. 

Zen curses when he opens his eyes and realizes he didn't even get through half the glass, and he's about to give up when Jumin squeezes his hand lightly. Zen looks up to see Jumin giving him a watery smile, and the warmth that spreads through his chest is what motivates him to take another sip.

Jumin talks Zen through drinking what's left of the orange juice. Tells him he's proud of Zen, he's doing so well, he can take a break if he needs to. It feels horrible, but every time Zen wants to quit Jumin whispers to him again, and Zen tips the glass back a little further

It takes a few minutes, but Zen is able to down the entire glass with Jumin's help. He sets it down and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes brimming with tears. He isn't able to get a word out before Jumin is out of his chair and at Zen's side, his arms thrown around Zen's slender frame.

Zen legs shake as he stands and his arms feel heavy as he hugs Jumin back. Jumin must notice him trembling because the arm around Zen's waist tightens, holding him steady.

"I'm proud of you," Jumin whispers, and Zen kisses Jumin before he can say anything else and make Zen's cheeks darken even more.

The kiss tastes sweet, and for the first time in what feels like years, Zen smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah idk what this is i just love juzen and need a supportive partner to make me eat

**Author's Note:**

> yell @ me pls
> 
> [main tumblr](http://vallraiene.tumblr.com/)
> 
> [mysmes tumblr](http://rfgay.tumblr.com/)
> 
> also my discord is vallraiene#7199 okbye


End file.
